Hairy vetch still blooming in the Big Tunnel in January.
Jason’s final day of work was before Christmas. Since he normally takes vacation days between Christmas and New Years, it didn’t feel odd to have him home these last few days.
We watched out the window for him on his last day. When the headlights cut through the December dark, Silas and I started waving like high-speed windshield wipers.
We didn’t have anything special planned. We’re the worst at celebrating things sometimes. We did, however, have a bottle of champagne Jason bought last summer to mark the end of the CSA season. That we finally got around to drinking it several months late is evidence of our weakness for celebration. Jason did have an extra-special Christmas gift for me that he and Silas managed to keep secret for weeks and they opted to give it to me then.
After putting Silas to bed, I curled up with my champagne refill beside Jason, and we enjoyed the Christmas tree lights. The couch in our living room could have just as easily been the edge of a skyscraper. This night felt exhilarating and frightening. Don’t look down. Just look out. Our new life officially started.
A few days later, it was Christmas. Since we’re vaccinated, we hosted a few small holiday gatherings with family and friends. For one night, my best friend and her family stayed with us. They have two boys about Silas’s age. Silas’s Christmas wish from Santa was that everybody stay healthy so the boys could be together. Even though it was damp and dreary, they played outside for hours, then huddled around to play Minecraft at night.
The grownups played board and card games. I’ve never been one for games. Actually, for most of my 36 years, I didn’t like playing games at all. (Aren’t I fun on paper? A frugal, caffeine-free, vegetarian, minimalist who hates games.) Maybe it’s the social isolation of the pandemic, but it felt incredible to have fun and joke together. I laughed harder than I have all year. My mother, who loves games (she made an Arcade Day for Silas once in her living room), seized on my newfound mirth and immediately scheduled a family game night.
A few days later, I had the chance to visit with a good friend who was in town. We made a moms-only trip to French Creek Coffee and Tea, and it was so nice to sip and chat in peace.
For New Year’s Eve, the weather was warm, so we spent most of the day working on the farm. Everything was frozen in time up there after an autumn that went completely haywire. Cleaning old messes and putting things away was a proper end to the year. Later that night, we put on, “It’s a Wonderful Life.” As much as I love the end of that movie, I couldn’t stop my eyes from closing about two-thirds through. Jason and Silas watched the ball drop while I snoozed. Tucked snug in my bed felt like a good way to ease into 2022.
With cool, rainy weather for New Year’s Day, we worked in the Big Tunnel, unclipping the dead tomato vines and taking down the hooks. It’s a peculiar feeling to walk along the tomato rows this time of year. The sungolds have dehydrated into orange paper lanterns. Many of the bigger red cherry tomatoes are still plump, but pinched at the top like tiny coin purses. As we unclipped the vines, we breathed in sun-dried tomatoes with an occasional whiff of rot. Mother Nature, after giving birth to another growing season, is in her postpartum again.
Jason had what felt like his “first” day today. I’ll write more about our new hybrid schedule soon. I’m honestly still wrapping my head around it, and so is he.
With such a dramatic shift in our lives, I wanted a fitting resolution for the new year. For most of my life, I’ve been someone who checks off her to-do list with an almost self-righteous vigor. In my defense, it was often necessary to keep our farm and family running. But I want to put my checklist approach away. Try something new. In short, lighten up. Maybe I’ll despise it. Maybe I’ll love it. I’m game.
~ Stella